


Missing the Breaks

by Cartwheellou



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, None of the sides really work together yet, Pre any name drops, Pre-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Thomas almost gets hit by a car, Virgil trying to help by being mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-09 03:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartwheellou/pseuds/Cartwheellou
Summary: “Damn it, Thomas!” his own voice shouted at him, louder than the ringing in his head. His swimming vision tunneled in on two red rimmed black rimmed eyes. “I’m not messing around when I’m telling you to watch where you’re going!”Thomas learns the hard way that ignoring that voice in the back of his head turns out to be a pretty dangerous thing to do at night. Pre AA, pre any name drops. Thomas tries to find his way home after losing his car keys while Anxiety, Logic, and Creativity follow him around bickering.





	Missing the Breaks

First he lost his keys. By lost, he meant surely misplaced in the confines of his apartment. He would probably find them wedged between the couch cushions or, god forbid, in the freezer (again). The inconvenience of this occurrence was heightened when his phone died, because he had been planning on calling his mom to give him a lift home from Joan’s play; Joan themself had been dragged off by the rest of the cast for drinks, and the conversation had gone something like this—

“Thomas, I’m gonna go get drinks with the rest of the cast. Are you gonna come? I can give you a lift home from there.” They tossed a thumb over their shoulder towards the theater doors.

“Ah, no thanks, I’d rather just go home and crash,” Thomas admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“My mom knows my keys have been missing for a day or two—she said she’d drive me a couple places if I needed it. She’s at home right now, so I don’t think it’d be a problem.”

Joan shrugged. “Alright. Suit yourself. See you, Thomas!”

It was a lot less of an issue before Thomas pulled his phone out and realized he had both no way of calling his mother and no way of contacting anyone that could give him a ride whatsoever. No taxi. No uber. Not even Joan, as embarrassing as that would be. 

“Wow, you’re so royally screwed,” a voice sighed almost happily from the side. Thomas jumped to face it.

“Anxiety?!” The black clad side leaned against the wall next to the door, grinning a little.

“You do realize you can’t get home, right? You’re gonna have to walk. Or beg help from a total stranger,” he continued, pushing himself up a little in vigor. “Imagine asking a total stranger for a lift. You’re gonna walk, aren’t you?”

“Falsehood,” another voice called from directly beside him, causing Thomas to start again. Logic readjusted his glasses. “Thomas still has multiple routes available to him. For instance, a stranger’s phone can be used to call a taxi, or he could use public transportation. You do have your wallet, don’t you?”

Thomas immediately felt for his back pocket, relief pouring over him. “Yeah.” The one thing he  _ did _ have.

“There we go,” Logic nodded. “There are still some people coming out of the theater; why don’t you ask one of them for assistance?”

The suggestion immediately heard matching keens from Thomas and Anxiety. Logic leveled them an unamused stare. “Seriously. You’re—you’re going to pass up asking to borrow someone’s phone.”

Thomas winced. “If I ask for someone’s phone to call a cab, then they’re gonna be  _ involved _ . Plus, everyone here’s going home—what if I hold someone up?”

“It’s just borrowing someone’s phone, Thomas; you’re blowing it out of proportion.”

“What if they try and wait with you?” Anxiety continued with wide eyes. “Not only would you be stopping them from going home, but then they’d keep trying to  _ talk _ to you,” he grimaced, causing Thomas to whine a little louder. A group of four headed past Thomas out the door Anxiety was next to, laughing and talking amongst themselves. 

“Quick, Thomas, ask one of them,” Logic ordered.

“Don’t ask them, Thomas, you’d be interrupting their conversation,” Anxiety immediately snapped in response. “They’re all  _ leaving _ , do you really want to mess up someone’s night?”

Logic scoffed. “It would not mess up someone’s night.”

“Thomas would mess up anyone’s night; he can’t even talk to someone without sounding like an idiot!”

They walked out the doors completely, again leaving Thomas alone. Logic groaned. “A wasted opportunity.”

“I don’t want to borrow someone’s phone,” Thomas declared seriously, picking at his fingernails a little bit. “I mean, there’s other things I can do, right? I can catch a bus, or something.”

“Are buses even running this late?” Anxiety questioned. “It’d be horrible if you got to the bus stop and the bus never came. Then you’d be  _ really _ stranded. You wouldn’t even have the  _ chance _ to borrow someone’s phone again.”

“The buses are still running,” Logic informed. “I am certain you could manage to get home through the metro system. However, this is a much more inefficient route and I still highly recommend that you call a taxi.”

Thomas hissed from between his teeth, slowly raising his palms. “The thing is… I really… don’t want to do that?”

“I agree,” Anxiety nodded hastily. “No borrowing phones.”

Logic sighed in aggravation. “Fine, then, if you don’t want to listen to reason. If I’m remembering correctly—which I definitely am—the nearest bus stop is out to the left. The likelihood of you catching a bus sooner rather than later is higher if you leave now.”

“Great!” Thomas exclaimed, giving two thumbs up. “Let’s go now, then!” He pushed out the theater and hurried out into the parking lot, armed only with his wallet. Logic and Anxiety trailed behind.

He tread quickly through the expanse, his feet skidding across uneven patches of the poured pavement. Bits of gravel skittered away from his steps. Most of the stalls stood empty, the worn yellow lines only visible under the oases of the street lamps placed throughout the lot. Thomas was one of the last theater attendees to depart, and there was no other reason to hang around. Darkness crawled across the ground and nestled in the crooks of trees and buildings, descending from the stretched yawning sky. Concealing robes of shadows draped across everything.

“Is anyone else straight up not having a good time?” Anxiety muttered, glancing around the lot suspiciously. 

“Are you referring to the innate mysteriousness of our current surroundings?” Logic inquired. “There is no reason for alarm, believe me. We’re the only ones out here.”

“That we know of,” Anxiety replied darkly.

“Could you guys not?” Thomas shot back, perhaps lengthening his stride slightly. Thomas could feel perfectly well that Anxiety didn’t trust the parking lot, as told by the way jitters ran all underneath his skin and caused his bones to sit not quite right.

“Why, are you scared of the dark, Thomas? I thought you outgrew that when you were eight,” Anxiety snarked.

“And I thought you were scared of the parking lot.”

He scoffed with a small amount of offense. “This looks like the place teenagers go to get stabbed,” he retorted.

Logic gave a confused hum. “Why would anyone go somewhere with the intent of getting stabbed?”

Thomas explained, “It’s kind of a figure of speech, Logic.”

“Should I add it as a vocab card?”

“Think of it more as a mood,” Anxiety cut in.

“Oh, I know that one,” Logic murmured to himself, pulling out his stack of index cards. He rifled through the bunch, holding them up to the meager street lamp light. “I see. Well then, I will have to disagree with you, Anxiety; I don’t believe that that phrase conveys the proper  _ mood _ . Just because we’re alone in the dark does not mean that there is anything dangerous about the parking lot.”

Anxiety snorted. “I think Thomas disagrees. Pretty eager to get to the bus stop, aren’t we?”

Thomas huffed. “Just because there’s probably nothing out here, that doesn’t mean that I need to spend any time hanging out in this creepy parking lot,” he clarified tersely.

“I thought I had already demonstrated that there is nothing inherently frightening here,” Logic frowned. “Is there a reason you think otherwise?”

Anxiety inhaled deeply, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. “It’s something you feel, Logic, not something you think.”

“Well, that’s inane.”

“It’s in the air.” Anxiety wiggled spooky fingers. “Terror. Misfortune. Tragedy.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I think that’s going a little far, Anxiety.”

“You can feel it too, Thomas,” he crooned. “Eyes all around. The sensation on your skin—like it  _ knows _ something is about to reach out and grab you. That invasive thought about how  _ nice _ being in your mom’s car would be right now—or even at the bar with Joan. Alas, poor Thomas is without keys and phone, leaving him to forage into the dangerous night. You know that’s how every horror movie starts, right? With some little fish like you getting  _ killed _ .” Despite himself, a thrill shot up Thomas’s spine. The clammy Floridian air was like a thousand waiting hands, and the desolate sky was a magnifying glass.

“Did someone say horror movie?”

Despite Anxiety having done most of the scene setting, he jumped the most when a voice came out of the dark. Both he and Thomas yelped in fear.

“What, what’s wrong?!” the voice called back in fright.

Logic, a hand clutching at his chest, blew out a puff of tight air. “It’s just Creativity! No reason to be alarmed.”

Anxiety laughed tensely. “I disagree.”

Thomas shook out his tense hands and tried to work his heart rate back down to the (still elevated) pace it had been cruising at before Creativity’s arrival. Creativity’s form in front of him became more apparent after blinking a few times; they had stalled in one of the darkest places of the lot. “Creativity, what are you doing here?”

Creativity glanced around their surroundings in eager scrutiny. “You were imagining a horror scene quite vividly! I came to discover the cause.”

Anxiety hummed a little appreciatively, crossing his arms. “Nice to know that my storytelling is so effective.”

Creativity’s eyes landed on the smug side with a cringe. “If you’re the only foe here, then clearly I came at the wrong time. Who invited him?”

“I was here first!”

“Nevertheless, I find myself in an inspiring scene! There’s something in the air, you know?” He crossed his arms and inhaled deeply.

“No,” Logic grumbled.

Thomas began to pace forward again, Creativity falling into step with him. “What exactly do you feel in the air?” Thomas asked.

“The mystery!” Creativity raved, lifting his hands. “As much as I hate to agree with Emo Diamond over there, it does feel like the start of a great adventure!”

“Oh, right. Thomas and the quest to the bus stop—thrilling,” he deadpanned.

“Come now, Thomas! You know that you must see the inspiration in everything! This event is clearly causing an emotional reaction, and anything causing emotion is powerful.”

“So you’re saying I  _ am _ going to get stabbed in the parking lot.”

“Yes,” interjected Anxiety.

“Of course not!” countered Creativity. “You’re going to be the powerful yet relatable hero that manages to break free of villany’s clutches!”

“Or, more realistically—” Logic cleared his throat. “—you’re going to arrive at the bus stop, get on the bus, and find your way home with no strange occurrence whatsoever.”

Thomas stepped onto the sidewalk, glancing left and right for an appropriately bus stop shaped street sign. The road stretched off down to the right indefinitely behind a bend—it ended in a turn on the left. No sign was immediately visible. “Logic, where did you say this bus stop was?”

Logic, upon inspection, similarly found the street bereft of anything helpful. “Hmm. I may have been slightly mistaken as to the exact placement. I am still quite sure it is to the left, though. If we continue in that direction, I am sure we will happen upon it.”

“This is just getting better and better, isn’t it?” Anxiety cheered. “Please, Thomas, walk closer to the dark alleyways.”

“Forage into the unknown!” boomed Creativity.

Thomas grimaced but continued on his way regardless. Light came down more regularly near the sidewalk, but the imposing dark facade of the buildings opposite negated whatever comfort the light might have instilled. His steps seemed to echo that much more—maybe because they grew to be loudest when Thomas’s sides fell silent, dwarfed only by the roar of passing cars.

Anxiety quickened his pace to sidle up next to him, leaving Logic to walk alone. He leaned in close to Thomas and muttered, “Are you sure you’re paying enough attention to where you’re going?” Thomas glanced up at the buildings coming up on his side of the street.

“What exactly am I supposed to be paying attention to?”

“All of it.”

“What?”

“Everything at the same time,” Anxiety affirmed.

“Um… I don’t think I can—”

“Then you’re gonna get stabbed,” he shrugged.

“Stop trying to worry him!” Creativity snapped. “What exactly do you expect him to be doing about anything?”

“I just think that Thomas ought to be aware of the fact that he might get mugged if he walks too close to the alleyways,” Anxiety shot back. 

“We aren’t exactly in the dangerous part of town,” Logic pointed out. “The likelihood of getting mugged here isn’t very high.”

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. If it was Logic saything that, then—

“Of course it could still happen,” Logic continued. “It’s not as though one ever expects to be mugged. But I recommend paying attention to more likely dangers, such as being hit by a drunk driver. If I’m remembering correctly, there are numerable amounts of bars in this area, and any given driver may be under alcoholic influence.”

“Thomas watch the cross streets,” Anxiety demanded, invigorated. “You’re gonna get hit by a car.”

Thomas shot a glare back at Logic. “Not helpful, Logic.”

“On the contrary, knowledge is always helpful. It’s better to be aware of all dangers present to you.” The shadow of the first building fell over them.

“Don’t listen to these downers, Thomas,” Creativity comforted, slapping a hand down on his shoulder and stunting his gait. “There’s no need to be so concerned—think instead about what an incredible night you’ve had! Great show, pleasant walk outside—” He tilted his face to the wind and inhaled. “—and now you’re going to go home and work on your video!”

“I’m what?”

Creativity pulled Thomas into his side. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Thomas. You see, you’ve been procrastinating on this one for  _ way _ too long.”

Thomas breathed in with a hiss, and weakly protested, “See, for tonight I was thinking Parks and Rec.”

“No, no,” Logic chastised seriously. “No Parks and Rec, Thomas, you’ll stay up much too late. If you absolutely must do something before going to bed, you should be reading.”

“But the  _ video _ ,” Creativity whined.

“Thomas, watch the alleys!” Anxiety barked.

“Well, I can’t do anything when everyone’s shouting at me like this,” he pointed out, lifting his arms to shrug off Creativity.

“Listen Thomas, you know I’m all for making you worried about the future, but right now I think you should really focus on what you’re doing,” Anxiety prompted once more, the harsh picks at his fingernails audible.

“Anxiety, I don’t know what you think I can do besides what I’m doing,” Thomas replied.

“Yeah Anxiety, what do you want him to do?” Creativity taunted. “Walk down the middle of the street?”

“I hope you’re joking. Then he really would get hit by a car,” Logic piped up.

Thomas touched his temple, not paying much attention to the shadow of the building slipping off of him. “Where’s that bus stop?” he murmured.

“Like I said, likely in this direction,” Logic confirmed.

“If only it could simply materialize!” raved Creativity.

Of course this necessitated Logic arguing, “Surely you know that’s not possible.”

“Well—yes, but—”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Keep walking, Thomas,” Anxiety growled, pulling Thomas along. “You’ve been been in front of the alley for too long.” Thomas stumbled and jerked, hissing slightly. A wave of nervousness swelled up in his chest at the contact.

“Could you  _ please _ shut up about the—”

“Anxiety, let go!” Thomas shouted as he found his breath, snatching his arm back. Breath pooled back into his lungs, throat burning, everything in his body telling him he had just done a sprint. He rubbed at the handprint he could still feel on his arm and the goosebumps that had prickled up all over his skin at the contact. His heartbeat thudded in his teeth. Everyone stopped. “Please don’t touch me again,” he requested, his tone more reigned in.

Logic and Creativity stared at the other two with wide eyes. A pain passed over Anxiety’s face, but he answered cooly, “Only if you keep moving.”

“Fine,” Thomas ground out, again setting off quickly in jitters. His veins felt like engine fuel had burnt through them. He almost expected Creativity to continue his sniping at Anxiety, but he let the silence lord for a little longer.

A stream of cars cruised past them on the street, the headlights mounting on the pavement with the white noise of the tires. The corner up ahead of them basked in the illumination of a single lamp, though the bus stop still remained out of sight. “I bet it’s around the bend,” Thomas muttered in attempts to break the tension he had accidentally brought upon the group.

“But what if it’s not,” Anxiety muttered, shrinking as if not to be heard. Thomas ignored him.

Creativity elected to respond, “Anxiety, do shut up.”

Anxiety bared his teeth at the fanciful side. “Why are you even here, Princey? The situation doesn’t call for anything creative—unless you’re going to count thinking of all the ways to get  _ stabbed _ .”

“I’m always welcome, considering Thomas actually likes me. You, on the other hand, never need be brought up considering that you’re entirely useless.”

“This again? Really?” Logic crossed his arms and raised both eyebrows at the other sides. “You two are going to do this now?”

Anxiety snapped his hands up. “I’m not even  _ doing _ anything!”

“Just so, you don’t do anything to help Thomas ever.”

Thomas stalked ahead faster, doing his best to ignore the arguing that continued on behind him.

Creativity jabbed with his hand. “I don’t understand why you bother, I truly don’t.”

“Says someone with no regard for safety.”

“You are pointless fear! Worrying constantly, holding Thomas back!”

Logic hummed. “If it wasn’t for Anxiety, we could be waiting for a taxi right now.”

“Boom!” Creativity explained over top of Anxiety countering, “Those were  _ total strangers _ —”

“—there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that!”

“Guys!” Thomas shouted. Anxiety and Creativity petered off. “Everyone arguing at once is the last thing I need right now; either can it or go away!”

They shut their mouths with varying degrees of resignment. Creativity, as Thomas knew, yearned to have the last word, but even he let it lie.

“Thank you. I just wanna find this bus stop and go home.” This time when silence took over, Thomas let it with a short breath. He crossed the street to continue around the corner and finally he spotted it ahead—the gleaming metal sign a block and some more away.

“I knew I remembered where it was,” Logic claimed smugly. No one attempted to deny it, though Anxiety begin to make his way closer to Thomas and away from the other two. He slowly took the lead as they approached the next street to cross, judging the shadows of the building with critical eyes.

Thomas wearily pleaded, “Please let it go, Anxiety.”

Anxiety turned away from his inspection of the narrow cross street to fire a gaze. “I’m doing my job. When have I ever done what you wanted me to?”

“You certainly never do what  _ I _ want you to do,” Creativity sneered as he followed Thomas towards the edge of the road.

“Good thing I don’t care what you have to say—ever.”

Thomas huffed a sigh as he moved to enter the street. Fingers grazed the inside of his forearm and he flinched away from the touch before more than a fizzle could pop through his heart. “I told you not to touch me,” he barked harsher than he meant to, halting with one foot off the curb. “Don’t do that again,” he rephrased, clenching and unclenching his fist.

Anxiety’s eyes darted down to Thomas’s feet before jumping back up into an incensed glower. “And I told you to watch where you’re going. How about actually checking the street?”

“I did, Anxiety, and I’m not five; I can check for traffic by myself.”

“One could say you’re not truly needed!” Creativity seconded gleefully from the road.

Anxiety’s eyes darted between them. “I’m giving you a warning, and you better listen to it, Thomas,” he commanded.

Thomas rocked back on his feet but remained where he stood. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you listen to me—whether that’s with you in the state of a shivering, cowering mess or not,” he threatened, his voice beginning to take on many different qualities.

Thomas’s chest twinged in recognition, like the pain of something not healed quite right. But still, he pushed out, “I couldn’t check the road very well then, could I?” And he forced himself to face about and stalk across the stretch of pavement, fighting down the unfounded rising panic in his chest. Cars flew down the adjacent street, but not the one he was crossing. Not the one he was crossing. 

He ignored Anxiety’s shout of, “Thomas!” but suddenly he couldn’t ignore a blinding flash at his side. Two twin lights, banking around like a ship coming to port, seared into his retinas when he turned to face them. It encroached too fast—he should have checked. His chest jumped but he just couldn’t make his legs. His soul dropped to the bottom of his shoes, heavy with the knowledge of death in a way that it had never been before. In his veins ran the sensation of flying, but none of the action came along with it. Why didn’t he check?

A heavy weight rammed his side and tackled him off his feet, crushing him on the landing. He couldn’t catch his breath, but that was due to a lot more than the weight; his brain fired with every crazy chemical, making him dizzy enough to shoot his mind straight out of his skull, and his limbs were on fire from the inside out with post death trauma. Hands clenched his upper arms and hauled him to his feet as a portion of the weight lifted off his chest.

“Damn it, Thomas!” his own voice shouted at him, louder than the ringing in his head. His swimming vision tunneled in on two red rimmed black rimmed eyes. “I’m not messing around when I’m telling you to watch where you’re going! You think getting hit by a car is a joke?!” His rattling body was harshly shaken by the clamps still attached his biceps. Breath still escaped him, but a single thought remained in his head.

Logic and Creativity remained stock still in the center of the road. That’s where he was standing. That’s where the car flew through. Thomas wasn’t a figment from his brain like the other three. Thomas would have been dead.

“Pay attention, Thomas! If you keep ignoring me like this, someday you’re gonna get hurt!”

Thomas grabbed the one holding him right back. The panic in his chest screamed louder, but he eked out, “Anxiety… you saved my life.”

Anxiety finally released him, shoving him off the road a little bit more, and threw up his hands. “What do you think I’m here for?!” And because he left them aloft a little too long, Thomas could spot how they were shivering like loose leaves in the wind. And his chest, too, heaved like he couldn’t push anything into his lungs. “You think I’m just here to make you feel bad?! God, it’s like you don’t care about your own death!”

“Anxiety…” Thomas clasped his arms over his stomach, trying to keep his innards contained.

“Get to the bus stop,” he barked, shortly shoving at Thomas. Another thrill of panic shot up Thomas’s spine, but he did as told. “I can’t stand you being out here. You’re gonna get shot at, next.”

Thomas skittered towards the stop, numb with the idea of bus stop equaling safety. Anxiety didn’t touch him again. When they all entered the pool of light, Thomas laid a grounding hand on the cold metal pole and stared at the cement. Logic and Creativity ghosted after Anxiety, gaze unmoving. It took Anxiety a few beats to notice, but he startled when he did.

“Gosh—stop, staring is rude.” He purposefully turned away from the other two sides with hunched shoulders. “You better get home safe, Thomas,” he spat, sounding like a threat. “Don’t even think that you’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” And for the first time, Anxiety ducked out without leaving Thomas feeling any calmer.

Thomas swallowed, flicking his eyes to watch Logic copy him. Logic murmured delicately, “Well. I’m glad you’re okay, Thomas. Please do get home safe. We’ll leave you alone, but if you have any further need of us on your journey home, you may still call upon us.” Creativity didn’t even protest when Logic grasped his wrist and sunk them both out of view.

The buzz of the above street lamp accompanied Thomas alone until the bus rolled down the lonesome street, a bumbling machine of whirring breaks. He held his handful of sweaty quarters ready in his fist, doing his best to not meet the bus driver’s eyes while climbing the steps. Tumultuous waves roared through his chest as he rumbled home, his focus tending towards keeping the anxious ocean down in his throat. He stumbled through his front door like falling into an embrace and fell into his bed like a surrender. As Anxiety promised, thoughts sloshed up into his brain when he hit the pillow, and he turned hours trying to wade through them.

By the morning, the previous night’s events had mostly washed away. Anything Anxiety had said post saving Thomas’s life withered beneath his steely scowl of the next day. Anything he had done, Creativity framed as the panicked instinct of paranoia without objection; even Anxiety himself gave a simple cutting acceptance. And that was all any of them needed to know.

(Given the absence of Morality in the equation, Thomas took it upon himself to file the incident away. He thought that, on the occasion of Anxiety forcing Thomas to relive any past traumatic events, this might be one worth bringing back to light. He didn’t think he could afford to forget Anxiety’s raised hands, shaking like they would if he really cared at all.)   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Who caught the camp camp reference? I’m sorry I didn’t get to include my most precious cinnamon roll! Pat didn’t feel like joining us this time :( There aren’t any other pedestrians because I didn’t want to deal with people looking at Thomas weird for talking to himself.


End file.
